Draco Bloody Malfoy
by TheMarauderBandit
Summary: It is five years after the war. This story has been played many times. This is not your usual Dramione story. That one has too. You may've read lots of these, but I am captured and breathing, in danger, yet not. And I hate him. He will not save me.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! I am obsessed with Dramione right now, and so of course I decided to write a fanfic about it. I hope you like my newest story... (drumroll as if you don't already know the title) Draco Bloody Malfoy! This story is going to be quite intresting, I assure you! Buon Divertimento!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize**

**Charcters slightly AU**

**~Bandit**

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Draco Bloody Malfoy

Chapter I

A golden light poured over the many houses and shops in Hogsmeade, illuminating the snow with a beautiful, magical quality. Twenty-two year old Hermione Granger, stepped out of the warm shower, and shivered at the sudden gust of cold air. She dried herself, dressed in her old Gryffindor sweat pants and Harry's Chudley Canon jersey that he'd given her for her twentieth birthday. She pulled one of the many sweatshirts he'd left behind after his dramatic departure; this one was a special one from a baseball game in America his dad had taken him to, over her head. Ron'd lived at Hermione's house for about a month before a fight occurred, one that consisted of lots of yelling, screaming, and hitting the back of Ron's head. He'd left in a hurry. They were on good terms now, but he hadn't come back to her house to retrieve his stuff.

Hermione settled down in a particularly squishy armchair that had holes in the side and on the arms that had stuffing oozing out, just like the one in the Gryffindor common room. She pulled a fuzzy, worn, moth-eaten blanket around her and looked out at the blizzard forming outside her house for a second before pulling out a stack of Charms essays out of the basket near the coffee table. She sat grading essays for an hour and a half.

She was the newest edition to the Hogwarts staff. Having been such a good student, she was allowed to come back and teach at the age of nineteen. It felt good to have known some of the seventh years when she'd first come, they respected her, having saved half of their lives during the war. Well, almost all of the students respected her. She listened to the students, and having gone through the same things they had, minus the fact that Voldemort was no longer at large, knew how they felt and how to solve problems, like love and enemies playing pranks, or humiliating each other. She was so relieved it was Christmas Break, Hermione was allowed to go

She closed her eyes as she got lost in the war that horrible night. She didn't often think about how many loved ones had died, or how much disaster had occurred. But this time she didn't think about the blood and gore, or the fire and ruins of the Hogwarts castle, this time, she thought about the long, sweet kiss she cherished so much. The kiss she and Ron'd had during the middle of the battle. She still dreamed about it at night, but she didn't love Ron anymore, no, she'd gotten over him, they were best friends, for sure.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by a large, silver, mare jumping through the window. She recognized the Patronus at once.

"Hermione, we need your house, now. We know you're busy, but we've just found a recruit hidden in Malfoy's Manor, he was locked up. He may need attending to, and we need you to get information out of him. Sorry!" Ginny's voice rung out throughout Hermione's house. She closed her eyes. They were out doing Order work. Again.

The Order of the Phoenix had reason to believe that some of the Death Eater that remained and were found innocent were gathering, hoping that they could be at large again. Lucius Malfoy, was of course leader, and the Order'd found many prisoners in the dungeon in Malfoy's Manor, though they could never find the captors, though there was always clues that they'd been there seconds before. The prisoners never knew where the Death Eaters had gone, but they did have little pieces of information. Soon they'd have the "puzzle" finished, once they got enough recruits.

A knock warned Hermione of the guest's arrival. She quickly jumped up, quickly pulling her long, honey-colored hair into a messy ponytail and slipping her tennis shoes on without socks. She opened the door and found Ginny and George supporting someone who looked oddly familiar. She studied Ginny, who looked grim and had a cut across her lip, and George who had no smile on his face. She still felt a pang of pain every time she saw the now twin-less brother. She then studied the "free" prisoner. His light blonde hair was matted with blood; his black t-shirt was covered in dirt. His right arm appeared to be broken, as Ginny handled it with care as she supported him; as did his left leg. His breathing was uneven, so Hermione guessed many of his ribs were broken, or at least badly bruised. A cough racked him as the blizzard stormed on.

He raised his head weakly to look at her. His lips were swollen and cut, but also blue from the cold, he had a hand mark on one of his high cheekbones, which were also very familiar, confirming Hermione's suspicions. This boy had been tortured and beaten, like many of the people that'd stayed at her house temporarily. He opened his eyes and she looked at them. Her breath was taken away at his eyes. They were full of pleading, desperation, hurt, and sadness, but that wasn't what shocked Hermione, it was the cool, grey, eyes that she knew so well.

"No, Ginny, George, _no_, I don't allow monsters in my house. That bloody _vermin _will _not_ step into _my_ house," Hermione made to close her door, but George quickly reached out his hand to stop her.

"Hermione, please, he's badly hurt, worse than we feared," Ginny quickly explained, trying not to anger her friend. "His own father captured him…"

Hermione considered. She _was _the Order's "healing house" as Bill called it. She sighed and stepped back, letting Ginny and George help him into her house. She winced as he set a dirty foot into her house. The siblings helped him into the armchair she'd been in mere minutes before.

She could not believe Draco bloody Malfoy was going to be staying in her house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! THis story isn't usually going to be in Draco's "perspective", only for this chapter. Sorry it reveals stuff you already know, it's for story purposes. And I know I used parts from the movie, sorry, couldn't help it! Buon Divertimento!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize**

**Characters are slightly AU**

**~Bandit**

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Draco Bloody Malfoy

Chapter II

Her words stung him. She'd called him a bloody vermin. He didn't want to stay with her, but he didn't have the strength to survive on his home, or protest. The past few days had been devastating and tiring. He'd awoken one night to the yells of his father and the screams of his precious mother. His father had then stormed into his room, and grabbed him by his hair and hit him, something he hadn't done since he was fourteen.

Then he'd dragged him to the dungeon, and used the Cruciatus curse on him, demanding he give information on the whereabouts of Harry Potter, information he didn't have. He'd been chained against the wall, and beat daily by the Death Eaters, though most often it was his father.

He looked at the brunette that stood before her, looking sort of worried. Memories of their meetings flashed before his eyes.

The first year, he remembered seeing her in the Entrance Hall. She'd had brown, bushy hair and buck teeth. He remembered feeling jealous whenever her hand shot up before his, he was just as smart as her, he just didn't show it. All the teachers favored her, all of them except his deceased godfather, Severus Snape. He remembered the shock he'd had when he learned that the witch that knew so much about magic was a muggle born.

The second year, when he'd called her a "mudblood", and the look of pure horror and distress on the girl's face when he'd said it. The way Ron'd stood up for her. That year was the year he'd felt surprisingly worried when she'd been paralyzed by the Basilisk. Her hair was a lighter color that year, and was a little less straight, and her teeth weren't as large.

The third year, when the horrible hippogriff, Buckbeak had attacked him and he remembered the concern in her voice as she demanded Hagrid to take him to the Hospital Wing. He remembered spotting her in the library, searching book after book for a way to save the hippogriff. When he'd dressed up as a Dementor at the Quidditch, the way she'd nearly punched him after the game, she screamed and yelled at him until her voice was hoarse. And then, when she'd _actually_ punched while he was making fun of Hagrid. Merlin, that girl was strong.

The fourth year, that night at the ball, when Hermione had appeared, her now light, straight hair pulled back in some fancy, beautiful hairdo, her light pink dress inches above the floor, bringing out her almond-colored eyes. And he hated to admit that she'd looked _hot_. He remembered making fun of Potter, she looked ready to hex the daylight out of him, she'd even pulled out her wand first, but allowed Professor Moody to get to him first, obviously not wanting to get in trouble. Man she was _beautifu_l that year.

The fifth year, she'd stood with Potter the whole way. He had mentally slapped himself about five dozen times for thinking she was sexy. She was definitely not the same dorky, buck-toothed kid she'd been during her first year. He was the one who held her in that stupid Umbridge's office. Merlin she'd smelled nice that day, like roses and strawberries with a mix of vanilla…

The sixth year, she'd spotted him in the bathroom sobbing, but she didn't say anything. She just quietly backed away and left. He was mad at her at first, he thought 'Why was she in the Boy's bathroom anyways?' and then he was grateful as he considered she'd heard him crying and was a nice enough person to go find out what was wrong. She was always so irritable in her sixth year. It was because of Potter. And then she'd passed him on her way to a Slug club party. She had been wearing a white dress, embroidered with pearls and her hair had been slightly pulled up in a messy, but beautiful fashion.

The seventh year, when she was tortured by his own aunt. Her screams still ring in his mind. He would never forget the tears of terror rolling down her dirty cheeks. He still remembered when she'd saved his life. When she'd went down to the Chamber of Secrets and back out again with that Weasley boy, and then she'd kissed him in the middle of the battle. And he'd felt jealous, very jealous that scum like the redhead was kissing such a beautiful women. He'd pushed that from his mind. And then she'd saved his life again, and then a third time. And in the end, he was really honestly glad that she didn't lie on the stupid table covered in dead people. She may have been crying, but she was alive and talking. And he loved when she talked.

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**A/N: I'm going to be awfully stubborn and not update until I have 7 reviews! REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! Have a nice day! You know I love all you readers :-)**


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